


this is the defining moment of our lives

by TheGodWith5Yen



Series: cross my heart and hope to die, with a big old piece of american pie [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Abusive Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Cigarettes, Drinking, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Grieving, Non-Explicit Sex, Period Typical Attitudes, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pregnancy, bea barnes is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16105619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGodWith5Yen/pseuds/TheGodWith5Yen
Summary: “What?” Bea rolled her eyes, annoyed by that look and it's very meaning and the fact that she was standing there that way right this instance, turning away from her sister to make sure her short white sleeves were puffed nicely, that her long hair was pinned back perfectly with her veil.Becca sighed, leaning against the wall, her fingers tapping against it as she composed herself. Bea watched her from the corner of the mirror. “I’m asking you one last time Beatrice. Do you want to marry Harold Riley?”Bea turned to her sister, smiling. “Yes. Now shoo, get outta here, I’m getting ready for my wedding. Really, Rebecca, stop behaving this way, go sit and enjoy yourself because I will be.”She watched as Becca shook her head, opened her mouth to say something before seeming to decide not to bother, leaving the room with a tight smile thrown Bea’s way. “Well then. I suppose I will see you once your wedding starts.” The door shut tight, the curtains swayed from the force used, the pattern moved along with it, before it settled once again.





	this is the defining moment of our lives

**Author's Note:**

> hey! I don't think you really need to read 'everything stays, but it still changes' but it'll give a small insight on Bucky's sisters and his relationship with them. When writing esbisc I got really into what the Barnes sisters life would be like after his death, so here's Bea's story.
> 
> For reference-  
> Bucky, born 1917  
> Becca, born 1920  
> Betty, born 1924  
> Bea, born 1929 
> 
> Additional warning- this story contains an abusive relationship as well as semi-graphic non-consensual sex between the couple

Sunlight drifted through the lace curtains, the wood floor filling with the intricate pattern, like a lovely stain. Bea found her eyes staring at it absently as her fingers went still at her ears, the small pearl earrings already clasped at her earlobes. A small knock at the door caused Bea to snap back into movement, her gaze back to the large mirror and fingers falling from her head, as she called out, “Come in!” 

It wasn’t a complete surprise that her oldest sister, Becca, tentatively opened the door, slipping inside the room. Her short hair was done in curls, not quite different from usual, though she had slipped a beautiful small butterfly bobby pin, shining blue and purple, among her mass of brown curls. Her dress had long sleeves that hid the hint of muscle on her arms, gained from the years she had worked at the factory. Becca pursed her lips, hands on her hips, her eyebrows scrunched up in that way that reminded Bea of their older brother. Whenever he sat down doing math or was trying to talk about something that was hard to say, his eyebrows drew close together like that, so much so that Steve had given them many drawings of Bucky with that very same look on his face.

“What?” Bea rolled her eyes, annoyed by that look and it's very meaning and the fact that she was standing there that way right this instance, turning away from her sister to make sure her short white sleeves were puffed nicely, that her long hair was pinned back perfectly with her veil. 

Becca sighed, leaning against the wall, her fingers tapping against it as she composed herself. Bea watched her from the corner of the mirror. “I’m asking you one last time Beatrice. Do you want to marry Harold Riley?”

Bea turned to her sister, smiling. “Yes. Now shoo, get outta here, I’m getting ready for my wedding. Really, Rebecca, stop behaving this way, go sit and enjoy yourself because I will be.” 

She watched as Becca shook her head, opened her mouth to say something before seeming to decide not to bother, leaving the room with a tight smile thrown Bea’s way. “Well then. I suppose I will see you once your wedding starts.” The door shut tight, the curtains swayed from the force used, the pattern moved along with it, before it settled once again.

 

Harold Riley was twenty-five years old, been through the war and came back fine and dandy four years later. Bea had met him while out for drinks with a group of her coworkers on the weekend. Bea had not been completely fond of booze, it- the smell and the foolishness- reminded her very much of her late father, but would accept nourishing a glass or two when others offered to pay. Harold had offered when he caught her leaving the restroom halfway through the night. Bea had smiled at him and gladly accepted despite the fact she had already had more than she usually drank.

He was very sweet and kind and affectionate. Not to mention quite handsome. Oh my, was Harold handsome. He had strong features, thick blonde eyebrows, and soft blonde hair that Bea loved to touch when they sweetly kissed. He lived all by himself over in Brooklyn Heights and had acquired a job at a local restaurant that he swore he would own one day, that’s how much the owners loved him. It was because he was so darned charming and polite.

Bea fell in love with him fast. Becca thought it was much too fast, insisting she should think more about their relationship and that she was still much too young to make this decision. Bea was eighteen, she was an adult. Sure, they had only known each other for seven months, but it felt like this- him- was her whole life. That they were meant to be.

Plus, Ruth Beatrice Riley had a sweet ring to it. 

 

When Bea had imagined her wedding it had always featured Bucky. He was- goodness how to describe what Bucky meant to her. Sure, he was her older brother, protective and kind and fun, but he had been more for her. He had been a role model, someone who could do no wrong in Bea’s eyes. Bucky had been more like a father- a true dad- to her than George Barnes had even been, when she thought about it. Bucky had been the one he worked, the one who sang her birthday songs, the one who bought her toys, the one who held her when she cried awake from a nightmare. 

It was only natural that her dream wedding featured her brother. He meant so much to her. 

She didn’t know what to do since he wasn’t here. Life itself felt directionless. Harold could help mend that. They will get married, have children, Bea will be a housewife and give their many children the stuffed toys Bucky had given her that she had, regretfully, grown out of. With Harold she knew how life was supposed to go again. That made everything easier for Bea. 

 

“Harold,” Bea poked at his arm, tickling him just how he liked when he didn’t open his eyes right away. This was exciting! This was everything she wanted, the first step into her life with Harold, or well, not exactly the first step, maybe more of the third or fourth step. Whichever step it was, it was so very important. She didn’t care how early it was and how much her husband loved his sleep before heading to work because he had to know now. “Harold!”

“Wha- Beatrice? What’s got you so damned excited this early in the morning?” Harold blinked at her wearily. Bea brushed back his blonde hair, smiling down at him before bringing her head down to brush her lips against his. 

“I just threw up!” 

“You just kissed me!” Harold pulled away from her, his face screwing up. 

Bea laughed, nodding. “Don’t worry I cleaned myself up! But Harold! Harold, I threw up. And my menstruation hasn’t been very regular so, well, I think I’m pregnant. Isn’t this just exciting! You’re gonna be a daddy Harold! C’mon get happy! I know you’re sleepy, but this is great! Oh my goodness, we will have to clear up a room for the baby, though I don’t think I will be comfortable having the poor thing sleep all alone, what if it cries? Or needs me right away- oh, well, I suppose we will see how this goes. Harold! Say something!” She clutched her hands together in front of her, her fingers twisting at her nightgowns fabric. 

Her husband blinked at her as he propped himself up on one elbow. “Geez you got knocked up already?” 

The wording, his indifference, made Bea blink stupidly at him. She pouted and shook her head.  How could he say it like that? Why wasn’t he grinning and kissing her whole face like she always imagined her husband would do when she revealed her suspicions. “Harold, don’t say it like that. I’m not some whore you met, I’m your wife. This is exciting! This is why we have- why we have sex so I can have babies. Aren’t you excited?” A rush of warmth flowed to her cheeks and she held her face. It was kind of embarrassing having someone else see her as naked as the day she was born. She thought of her Harold would push her down and how she didn’t quite enjoy it, but he would kiss her cheek afterwards and praise her so he must have enjoyed it.  

With a sigh, Harold held out his arm. Bea smiled and took his offered hand. His fingers caressed her own. “Oh doll, I only got surprised is all, didn’t think it would happen so soon. Of course I’m happy. I’m only just a little disappointed is all.” 

How could he be disappointed? What was there to even think about? Bea was pregnant. They were to be parents. And Bea will be a the housewife she wanted to be. They will be happy, even more happier than they are now.

“Disappointed? Why?” Bea pouted at him. 

“Well, uh,” Harold licked his lips. “We only just started havin’ sex Beatrice. I wish we could have more. So I can touch you and love you more.” His hand traveled up her arm, caressing her as he moved. 

Bea breathed in. She flashed him a smile, feeling unsure. “Um, well, maybe we can try what you talked about earlier? Me sucking your cock? So you can feel good. I want you to feel good.” That’s all she wanted for him, it’s what he deserved. 

Harold grinned. “You will? Geez why are ya so good to me woman? Hey, uh, it’s early, still have time till I need to get ready for work, why don’t we try it out?” He guided her hand to his pants. “C’mon, whatcha say? Let’s celebrate baby girl.”

Nodding, Bea’s finger unzipped his pants and her head moved down towards his legs. She swallowed, bit her lip, before taking a deep breath. This was her husband. This was what he wanted It was her job to give it to him. 

 

As Bea readied herself for work, smoothing down the wrinkles in her dress since it had gotten bunched up when Harold had simply thrown it in his- their- closet, she remembered something about Bucky. She wasn’t sure where it had come from, but it had popped into her head, making her chest constrict and heart speed up.

It was simple, really, but sent her on edge. What kind of memory was that? It had to be fake, had to be something her mind simply made up because Bucky would never- he wouldn’t do something like that. He wasn’t like that, not that Bea thought that it was bad, but that wasn’t Bucky whatsoever.  But why would her mind think of something like that? It made no sense. 

She remembered moans, peeking through the door of the room she shared with her sisters and Bucky, seeing Bucky on his knees in front of a man she had seen him talking to once or twice. He had been a nice man, he would pat Bea’s head and have slipped candies into her hand with a wink and a finger to his lips. Bucky said something and the man laughed, his hand coming to rest on her brothers face. 

That was it. That’s what she remembered. It made no sense whatsoever. 

Deciding to forgot about it, Bea lit up a cigarette, took a few puffs, sighed, and headed for work. 

The alcohol sloshed around the glass as Bea swirled it around. She didn’t enjoy the taste, but she relished in the burn. She placed her glass back down, listening as Becca was talking of a call she and Mama had received, asking about Steve and Bucky. Apparently someone wanted to make a film about the great Captain America. 

“I don’t think it would be a good idea, but I also want people to remember… more than just the scientific miracle Captain America. They should know Stevie, and Bucky as well. He was such a big part of Steve’s life. But, well, I don’t think I’ll let them. I’ve heard that the rest of the Howling Commandos don’t want a film made, especially since it was not so long ago.” Becca sighed and ran her hand through her hair. 

“Goddamned vultures all these fucking film makers are. They don’t even wait for the bodies to turn cold before doing this shit.” Betty answered with an eye roll as she brought her own glass to her lips. 

Bea scowled at her. “That’s a horrible thing to say Elizabeth.” Both of them had died cold and alone. Her older sister pursed her lips, but nodding, apologizing. “I don’t want to talk about this, I don’t like it.”

“Well damn, Bea, ya gotta talk about shit you don’t like once in a while.” Betty scowled at her. “You think we wanted to tell you how much we thought you were being a dumbass for going and marrying fucking Harold Riley so damn quick? No, but sometimes you have to talk about shitty stuff because that shit is important! It’s important. How people want to talk about Steve is important, how they want to talk about Bucky is important. How we think that Harold is a-”

“Betty.” Becca set her hand on Betty’s arm. Bea felt tears well up in her eyes, her hands clutching tight around the glass. She didn’t want to talk about this. She didn’t like this. “Look, Bea- Bea settle down. Ruth Beatrice, calm down. Yes, talking about Bucky is hard, but this is something we hafta do. It’s been a year since Bucky died. I know it hasn’t felt very long, but this is the reality of everything. Bucky was part of something bigger than just the war itself once Steve stepped foot and now we will have to be the ones dealing with people who want to know about them. We will have to talk about Bucky and Steve.”

Bea nodded her head and licked her lips. “Yes, well, I understand that. Though I want no part of that. You guys can talk up as much as you want, but I ain’t giving anyone nothing about my brother. And, well, why you bringing Harold into this? I know you two hate his guts, you don’t have to mention it everytime I see you both!” 

Her sisters shared a look. The lightbulb above them flickered. Bea drank her alcohol, swishing it in her mouth before swallowing. 

“Bea,” Becca sighed, resting her elbow on the table and placing her chin on her hand. “Look, we don’t hate Harold, we barely know the man, which makes us wary of him. My intuition tells me he isn’t as good as he seems, though, and I don’t know what it is. Don’t get angry, I just don’t connect with him like you so obviously do since you married him so damn quickly. Sorry, sorry, just… Bea, baby, are you happy?” Her brown eyes bore into Bea, making her breath come in warm. 

What kind of stupid question was that? Of course Bea was happy with her life, it was everything she wanted and everything she needed. Her life was absolutely everything she had been wanting since she could remember. Why was Becca like this?  

“Yes! Of course I am happy! I’m married to a wonderful man and- and- everything is going so good! I’m even pregnant! You are just paranoids little bugs who don’t know how to not butt into others life because you’re stuck living in the past! Constantly talking about Bucky and Steve! You know? I think you’re jealous of me Becca! Because I started my life before you and now you’re stuck with no guy by your side because Steve left you to be with some British agent lady and for a war we all knew would swallow him whole! You’re jealous because I’m so very happy and you aren’t.” Bea pointed her finger at her, stunned to see how much she was shaking.

God, it was so simple wasn’t it? Becca was upset because Bea had everything she had wanted with Steve- a loving husband, child on the way, a happy life. She was nine years younger than Becca and already she had everything in her lap. 

Becca’s lips trembled. “I can’t believe- you know what? Congratulations on the little baby growing inside you. I hope all the best for you and Harold. Why don’t you head back home?” 

Bea smiled, gathering her purse in her hands. “You know? I think I will. Bye bye Betty, Rebecca.” She turned towards the door, hearing the muttered words from Betty, “Huh, so all you ever do is run when things get tough? God did Buck spoil you too much if you’re-” Bea closed the door behind her, blinking away the feeling behind her eyes before stepping forward towards her new home. 

 

“What do you mean you quit your job!” Harold asked incredulously, his pale eyebrows scrunched close together, his mouth opening and closing as he stared at her. 

Bea set her fork down, smiling at her husband. “Well, I need lots of rest and working is really out of the question. I’m pregnant. I’m growing a child inside of me. This is something the doctor said I needed- lots of bed rest and no stress. So, no work. Geez Harold, why are you so angry? You work and get paid well!” 

“Yeah, well, it’s nice to know we get more dough since you work too! Plus, it ain’t like you got anything to stress about, all ya do is answer goddamned phone calls. What’s so stressful about that? And bed rest? Don’t ya sit all day?” Harold slammed his own fork onto the table, the plates rattling, causing Bea to jump up. “This is some fucking bullshit! You are going down and begging back for your job, ya hear me?” 

Bea opened her mouth. “But- I need rest. Doctors orders. Stop being so ridiculous, please! This is what I need for our baby! Why are you being selfish for? Just for a few extra bucks!” 

“Few- few extra- girl did ya just say that? Acting like I didn’t see that little shithole you called a home ya and your family grew up in! You know how good money is! You are going back to work and are gonna fucking beg back for job if ya need to because I ain’t gonna bring my kid into a home where it can’t get shit cause his momma is selfish and not thinking shit out like the little dumbass kid she is!” A fork went flying towards Bea, scraping her neck. Bea gasped and brought her hand over to her neck, staring wide eyed at Harold. His own eyes were wide. “Oh, fuck, Bea, baby, Beatrice, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” 

Large, hot tears fell from her eyes, flowing down her cheeks. Everything around her was a blur. She heard a scrape of the chair moving, seconds later Harold’s warm hands were holding hers. He kissed at her hands and clothed knees, making shushing sounds. 

“Oh baby, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get so angry. I’m so sorry baby. Hey, hey, it’s okay. Ya know what? Screw you working! Yeah, yeah, I was just being selfish, wanting more money. I can pick up a shift or two if I really want extra cash. I just like knowing I can spoil you if I want, but, hey, hey, it’s fine, it’s fine. I’m sorry baby, do you forgive me?” 

His hands caressed at her hands. Bea breathed in, nodding. 

 

Daddy’s love daughters. Daddy’s hurt sons. 

That’s what George Barnes taught Bea. 

Bea really hoped she would have a daughter. 

 

“Happy birthday baby.” Harold’s breath was warm on her cheek as he kissed her. She blinked at him before smiling slightly. “You want to do anything after I get back from work?” 

Bea shook her head. “No thank you Harold. No need to fuss. It’s only another day.” 

 

Becca and Betty stood on either side of Bea, holding both her hands as they stared at his headstone. It was so pale and dark, nothing like he was. Becca let go of her hand to place the bright flowers they had bought in front of his headstone- a bright spot in front of the bleak. 

Bea took in a shaky breath. 

“Do you think this would be easier if he was actually underfoot?” Betty asked quietly. Bea thinks she didn’t mean to say it aloud, but she nods anyhow. He wasn’t here- he was rotting in Europe, lost, never to be found again except for their memories. And that was harder to except than the fact that he had died. 

 

Bea sat in bed, reading Bucky’s old copy of The Hobbit. He had loved the book- the spine had many cracks decorating it from where he had opened it, the corners of the paper cover soft, his small capitalized printed handwriting found in the margins, little doodles made by Steve of Bilbo and the Dwarves and Gandalf the Grey on the blank page on the front. Bea smiled at something Bucky had wrote in the margin, bringing her glass of liquor to her lips. 

Drinking made looking at this feel easier. 

Music drifted from the radio, an old song that had Bea humming along. She placed her glass down, her hand moving towards her stomach, rubbing. She was getting bigger, noticeable. It was all very exciting. She wondered if her child would look like a red faced dwarf, squat and odd looking, when it was born. Babies were always so ugly when they were born, though Bea would never say that out loud.

 

Bea clutched the potato salad close to her chest, feeling quite nervous. She had met Harold’s family before, of course, but they very rarely visited one another. Bea had wanted to spend at least an hour with her mother and sisters, she had always spent the holidays with her family, but Harold had insisted they had to spend the whole day with his family since it was tradition, so she had gave Becca a call that she would visit the next day while Harold was at work. It had been an odd phone call; it felt like Becca wanted to say ‘what have I been telling you’ the whole time and Bea didn’t understand why. This was good, it was fine. She was only going to the Rileys Easter instead of spending time with her family.

But, well, the Rileys were her family now as well. Bea is a Riley now. 

Mrs. Riley- “Oh Ruth please just call me Clara,” she had said when she took the bowl from Bea, fussing about how Harold should let her rest, she was pregnant, look at her tummy peeking out like that!- was a tall older woman with gray hair and smile lines around her mouth. She wore jewelry around her neck and fingers. Her own mother had never had much jewelry, only her simple wedding band and a few necklaces she had inherited from her grandmother. She made Bea feel out of place, but still very much welcome in her home. Mr. Elmer Riley was a severe looking man who, despite his looks, gave Bea a hug and offered for her to take his seat in the living room. 

Harold had two older brothers and two older sisters. The oldest was Eugene. He was a nice man who liked to put his hands on Bea’s shoulders and kiss her cheeks whenever he saw her. He had a wife and two children. The second sibling was Veronica. Bea had taken a liking to her right away since Veronica liked to keep most conversation to the bare minimum and was a housewife herself. She had three children. The third sibling was Lorena. She had pretty blonde curls and dark lipstick. Lorena was not married, but she had told Veronica and Bea that she had a rich man who enjoyed her company quite a bit, so she had no need for a husband like he two of them did. The fourth was Anthony. He had also been in the war and acted a bit odd- shell shock was what they were calling it. He reminded Bea of her father. Anthony would leave the room whenever it got too loud, a whole bottle of liquor in his hands.

Elmer’s two brothers were also there for Easter. They were kind, but didn’t really talk to Bea or their nieces. Bea had been talking to Clara and Veronica, not paying attention to the men’s conversation, when Harold had called out her name from his perch next to his uncle. 

“Beatrice, you ever see that Captain America guy in Brooklyn?” He asked, looking genuinely interested in what she had to say. 

The topic of Captain America had always been something people loved, but since the footage of Captain America they played wherever they could, and the comics that were being published that Becca endlessly cried over because Steve would have surely hated them as much as the ones that were made when he was still around had made him uncomfortable, and the talk of creating a film- it was all a bit much for Bea. She guessed she, objectively, understood the appeal. He was an honest to God hero, a genetic miracle, someone people will be admiring for years and reading about in history books. Oh, geez, Becca was right wasn’t she? 

For a second, Bea considered not saying a thing about Steve, but then she felt her eyes burn as she thought of him and she felt the eyes of Harold’s family, waiting for any answer. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Steve was my brothers best friend, actually.” 

Lorena grabbed her hand, grinning, a giggle in her voice. “I didn’t know you had a brother Ruth! I don’t remember seeing him at the wedding.” 

Oh, what a rude gossip she was.  

Bea stared at her for a second, wondering how the hell that daddy of hers dealt with her stupidity. Guess he didn’t if he wasn’t buying her a ring with all that money of his. “Of course not my brothers dead. Bucky was in Steve’s team- the Howling Commandos. Actually, you’ve might’ve seen him in those reels they show. He was the one- he was the only one of them who died besides Stevie.” She could feel her eyes water up, but she shook her head. “It’s odd, hearing people talking about Captain America when to me he was always Steve, Bucky’s best friend. The one who was always around, who was sickly, who would draw for us whenever we asked him too. We all thought he and Becca would get married, have a kid or two…” 

She has memories of Steve trying to pick her up after Bucky, but she was bigger and heavier than she had been before when he was able to carry her, nearly dropping her into the wood floor of their apartment. Bucky had scrambled to keep Bea upright and Becca couldn’t contain her giggles, her hands gripping at Steve’s wrist, Steve blushing pink and laughing himself even redder than what Becca’s hand was making him. Bea had thought he would still marry Becca, even after his letters where he talked about the beautiful English agent woman he had fallen for. 

A hand on her shoulder. “Oh sweetie, you don’t have to talk about him. It must be hard, losing not one, but two people.” Clara smiled at Bea, rubbing up and down her arm like her own mother would do. 

Bea smiled at her, feeling foolish and very much like the little girl Harold accused her of being. “Sorry, Bucky’s birthday passed last month and it still weighs on my mind. Actually, um, I need to use the restroom, can you lead me there Clara?” 

 

“Why don’t you talk to me about him?” Harold asked as he stretched his arms up. “I hadn’t even known you had a brother.”

Bea shrugged at him as she slipped off her stockings. “I don’t want to. He’s dead now, and it’s horrible, and I have to move on.” 

Harold hummed, in faux understanding, in a way that someone who never truly lost someone pretended to understand. “Alright then. Let’s get to sleep then, huh?’

 

“Oh!” A man’s voice sounded out, a hand shooting out from around Bea. “Let me, uh, let me open the door for you ma’am.” 

Bea moved back a step, her hands tight around the bag of leftovers her mother had stacked for her. The man, around her age, possibly only a year a two older, had fluffy brown hair tucked under a cap. He was a little tanned, probably worked out in the sun. His left eyebrow had a scar running through it up to his hairline. He wore a light green shirt tucked into his trousers, it reminded Bea of the flower stems that were brought back to life these last few months. 

“Thank you.” She smiled at him, stepping inside. 

“No problem ma’am. Here, let me take that for you.” He pointed towards her bag. Bea contemplated for a brief second smiling, handing the bag over to him. She began to make her way up the stairs, the man following close behind. “Name’s Greene. Lee Greene. Pleasure to meet you.” 

“Pleasures all mine, you are helping me!” Bea turned to look over her shoulder, smiling at him. “I’m Beatrice Barnes. Sorry, um, Riley. Beatrice Riley.” She turned away, brushing her hair back from her face. “Do you live here Mr. Greene?” 

“Why, yes I do. Just moved in with a good friend of mine.” Lee Greene answered, a grin very obviously on his face as he spoke. He had the face of a man who always wore a smile, who was kind, who would, if he was still around, be a man Steve would love to be around. “I’m guessing you’re a bit new to that last name of yours?” 

Bea laughed, rolling her eyes, walking towards her and Harold’s apartment door. “Well, yes. I thought I could remember easily, but, well, I lived with one name for eighteen years, that’s hard to get rid of.” 

 

Mr. Lee Greene played jazz music at a local bar with a band. He knew how to play three instruments- the piano, the guitar, and the saxophone. He could even sing. He gave her a sample of lyrics he wrote himself, his voice nice and smooth. When Bea mentioned her interest in piano, Lee answered with, “I should show you some time! My friend has a piano in his home, you must come when you have time Miss Beatrice!” 

“Why I’d love to Mr. Greene!” Bea had answered with a grin equal to his. He had a bright smile that lit up a room, and darn was it contagious as hell. 

Bea made him a cup of tea and together they sat, talking, for an hour before Lee Greene gave her a regretful smile and a farewell. She saw him out the door, wishing him luck for when he played tonight and that inspiration would come his way to finish his song. He tipped his hat at her, a small curl falling over his, like an everyday Clark Kent. 

As Bea washed their tea cups, she found herself humming the few lines he had sang to her. It was quite catchy. 

 

“How was your day?” Bea asked as she placed a plate of food in front of her husband. 

He hummed, taking a large bite of his chicken. “It was just swell. Had to deal with some folks, you know how some people get.” He went on, Bea waiting for him to ask of her day so she could talk about her new friend. She was excited about this, she had not seen one of her old coworkers she had been pretty close to for three months now and many of her childhood friends weren’t really friends. Mr. Lee Greene seemed to be a true friend in the making- it was wonderful. Bea wanted Harold to be as happy as she was about this.  

He didn’t ask. 

 

“Can I feel? Or is that rude?” Lee extended his hand towards her stomach, smiling widely. His hat sat on the coffee table next to their drinks. Bea had offered some liquor, but Lee had declined, instead asking if she had coffee or tea. That had lead to them sitting, talking once again. 

Bea nodded excitedly. Many woman she passed by while shopping loved to touch her growing belly, even some men, though she had to goad Harold into feeling. She loved the attention, this care that every person had for her when they passed. “Not rude whatsoever Mr Greene. It’s actually moving a little right now, here, um.” She giggled, Lee joining in, as she grabbed his large hand and placed it on the right side of her stomach. 

Lee’s head shot up, eyes wide, laughing. “Wow! You’re growing a tiny little baby in there!” It was something so simple, so obvious, but it was exactly how Bea felt everyday she woke up to see her large stomach.  

“I know! I cannot believe it!” Bea laughed, her hand resting atop of Lee’s hand for a second before her hands flew to her face. She felt warm. “I’m so happy. I never thought I could be this happy again.” 

Lee’s hand left her stomach. “This Mr. Riley must be one helluva guy to have you glowing this much Miss Beatrice.”  

“After my brother died, my whole world stopped. Harold started it back again.” If it wasn’t for Harold then she would not be here, she would not have love like she wanted, she would not have the life so needed. She will always be grateful of the day she let her coworkers drag her to a bar, giving her the chance to meet Harold. Bea gave him a small smile, her hand reaching towards his empty cup. “Would you like more tea Mr. Greene?” 

 

Harold pat Bea’s cheek, sighing out praising words in her ear. “You’re such a good little girl aren’t you? Hey, think ya can use that pretty little mouth of yours instead of your hand? That’d make me so happy.” 

The sticky napkin in Bea’s hands balled up as she closed her hands over it. She shook her head, frowning at her husband. “I don’t want to get hurt.” 

“Oh, c’mon Beatrice! Please? Look, look, we can both just lie down, so no kneeling and no hurting your knees! C’mon baby, please. Look, I’m begging ya here.” Harold pouted, sitting up. He looked like a crying child. 

Bea crossed her arms. As much as she wanted to please her husband, she was not feeling up to this. She didn’t feel well. “No.” 

Her husband stood up, stalking over to her. “I’m asking for one fucking thing Beatrice. Kindly.” She ignored him, searching for the little bin they kept in their bedroom, annoyed that it wasn’t were it should be. Harold always moved the damn thing. Harold’s hand gripped her wrist, causing Bea to drop the dirty napkin, a gasp escaping her lips. “Stop playing around. You are gonna suck my cock, got that? Acting like you don’t want to and making shit up.” Harold dragged her into the bed, pushing her down between his legs. 

A whimper passed her lips. Harold moaned and tugged hard at her hair before forcing her head down, keeping a tight grip the whole time. 

 

Lee Greene visiting became routine. He came by whenever he could. Some days he insisted that she sit and rest, talking to her as he moved around her small kitchen, making them both a cup of tea. Lee had a favorite cup he always used- the teacup painted with green leaves and pink and yellow flowers that Steve had painted on for her several years before. Some days Lee brought over his guitar or his saxophone, playing her a few songs that she clapped about and praised for several minutes afterwards, receiving a blush and a “aw goodness Miss Beatrice, how you spoil me.” Some days they would listen to the radio, talking about themselves. 

It was very easy, talking to Lee Greene. He was so personable, such a good listener, and gave back his own experiences. He didn’t leave her wanting for something because he always gave her his friendship in return for her own. 

They were sitting on the sofa, Bea curled up on one end as Lee sipped at his tea. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice drifted from the radio, singing about three little words, Lee tapping along to the lyrics with his fingers on his knee. 

“You ever hear about Captain America?” Bea asked, staring at his deft fingers. 

“Well, God, who hasn’t. He was the biggest miracle since Jesus rose back up.” Lee’s fingers stopped moving, he clutched at his knee, but his lip. “You grew up in Brooklyn, huh? You know the man?” 

Bea nodded her head against the sofa. “He was my brothers best friend. I saw him practically everyday of my life growing up. Actually, he painted that very teacup in your hand right now.” Her gaze shifted up to his face. He had brought the cup up to eye level, examining the cup with a curious glint in his hazel eyes. “I never really knew how much he meant to me until he was gone. Even before we heard news of his… his death… it had been a helluva struggle. My brother was gone, and Stevie was to stay on account of all his medical issues. But, Steve, he could never back down. Honestly, hearing about the whole Captain America business was not quite a surprise as it should’ve been. Anyways, Steve was all there was that was close to normal with Bucky gone, then he had to be the big ol’ self sacrificial idiot Buck always called him and left.” 

“Sounds like you’re mad at the guy.” Lee pointed out, setting his cup on the table. 

Was it horrible that he was right? That she was quite possibly a little mad at Steve? She knew she shouldn’t be, that it was all Bucky’s choice to serve and join the Howling Commandos, but she still couldn’t completely dissipate her negative emotions. It wasn’t even really at Steve, but there was no one else for her to be mad at, and Steve had always been an easy target. 

“A little. Bucky coulda came home if it wasn’t for Steve marching out there. But, Bucky woulda died much sooner if Steve hadn’t marched in. And, well, it was Bucky’s choice, he explained so. To stay, to continue killing nazi scum. I just wished… I really just miss my brother. It’s nobody’s fault, really. I suppose if anyone, I should blame Hitler or that Red Skull fuck, excuse my language Mr. Greene.” She covered her mouth, wide eyed. Bea hardly ever cursed, unlike Betty who would curse up a storm in front of a church with a cigarette in her mouth, or Becca who did so under her breath or around close friends. Cussing was ugly in her ears, but by God, was it hard to talk about those horrible men without cursing them in such a way. 

Lee simply laughed, throwing his head back. “Why Miss Beatrice, hearing you curse is quite refreshing. And I must agree with you- those monsters who called themselves men deserve every curse you can throw their way.” He sobered up, his fingers fiddling together, his tongue jutting out to lick his lips. “It’s easy, to blame someone who is more tangible than monsters, but Miss Beatrice, don’t let that anger cloud the care you had for that man.” 

 

Rain drops sprinkled onto Bea’s head, causing her to giggle and hold her purse over her head. “Oh shoot! Mr. Greene, did you happen to grab a- oh thank goodness for a smart man like you!” She grinned at him, stepping close under the large blue umbrella he had procured. 

Lee grinned back at her. He had quite a beautiful smile Bea nearly tripped over her two feet. Really, a man shouldn’t be that beautiful. A rush of shock flowed through her chest at the thought- how can she be thinking such a way about a man who was not her husband. But, well, it wasn’t like she was lying, Lee Greene was a beautiful, handsome man, inside and out, from his smile to his eyes to his kindness to his voice. “A good friend of mine, she can sense when it will rain. She called me up late last night, saying ‘Lee, you  _ must _ hold an umbrella whenever you step out’ and I am. She doesn’t know when it will pour, and sometimes she is wrong, but, well, I stick to that woman’s intuition.” He pitched his voice high, stretching out his words in an obvious imitation of his friend. 

Bea smiled at him. “Oh, a good friend? Oh my Mr. Greene.” She poked at his side. 

“Miss Beatrice, I assure you, we are not like that. Brie is much like a doting older sister I never asked for or quite wanted, but, well, life throws ya family sometimes.” Lee locked eyes with Bea before shifting his eyes forward. 

“I think life threw me you Mr. Greene.” Bea murmured, her foot stepping lightly into a puddle, wetting her shoe and stocking underneath it. “You are very important to me.” She could feel Lee beaming at her like the sun, bright enough to evaporate the water falling from the sky. 

 

“So your father is black? I had no idea.” 

“Yes, well, I’m lucky. People look at me and believe I’m white, which is why I can live in this beautiful building here and was able to meet you.”

 

“- and you’re telling me that man turned out to be an American hero?” 

“Yes, well, life never goes the way you except!” 

 

“Miss Beatrice, I think I’ve gotten the perfect lyrics.” 

“Why Mr. Lee Greene, I must hear the perfection!” 

 

Lee was leading Bea around in a swing dance, Bea giggling and moving clumsily. Whenever she tripped over her feet, Lee had her in his arms, giggling along with her. He held her close, her stomach lightly pressing against him, his hands causing her arms to tingle where they settled. A loud bang and the music cutting off caused them to jump apart, both of them staring wide eyed at the entrance. There was only one person who could simply stroll into Bea’s home, and he was supposed to be at work. 

“Harold, sweetheart, what are you doing home so early?” Bea stepped forward before stopping, her hands playing with her hair as she stared at her husband. Next to her, Lee was as still as a prey in the linesight of a predator, as though Harold would look over him if he stayed as still as possible. This looked so horrible, Bea alone, dancing with another, handsome, man. She felt as though she had been caught red handed, like that time Bucky found her stuffing bugs inside her pockets, even though she was not doing anything wrong. She was only having fun. 

Harold’s blonde hair was mess, as though he ran his fingers through it, and his forehead was shiny with sweat. He pointed towards Lee, who visibly flinched. “The fuck’s this kid?” 

“My friend Mr. Greene. He was showing me some dance moves. Um, what- what are you doing home so early sweetheart?” Bea moved closer to him, grabbing his arm in her hands to help him from where he was leaning against the wall. One of her hands went to his forehead. 

“I was feeling ill. Why- why is this Mr. Greene here?” Harold squinted his eyes at Lee as he dug his feet down, refusing for Bea to walk him away from this situation. 

It felt as though Bea couldn’t properly breathe. God.

“Mr. Gree-” She began to say, only to be interrupted with a grunt from Harold. 

“He’s a man, ain’t he? Doesn’t need a little girl like you to speak for him. Why you here Mr. Greene? With my wife?” His jaw clenched, his eyes boring into poor Lee, who was practically shaking like a leaf in the wind now. She wanted to let go of Harold and hold onto Lee, tell him it was alright, they had never done anything wrong, Lee was a good man and Bea was a faithful wife. He had no need to be so scared.

… Did he have a reason to be scared? The thought made Bea’s toes and chest tingle. 

“I’ve been helping M- Mrs. Riley with bringing up groceries and such. And, well, she told me she would like to dance and I offered. I must apologize, I should have gone straight home, but, well, I wanted to be kind.” Lee licked his lips, his eyes flickering from Harold to the door. Bea could see how angry he had become at Harold’s words about her, but Lee held himself back, biting his lip, his hands most definitely clenched behind his back. 

“Helping.” Harold muttered, incredulously. “Help-ing. Well, you’re done now Greene. Get the fuck outta my home now.” 

 

Harold stayed home the next day, in bed nearly all day until his fever broke. Bea made him soup and mashed potatoes. She laid down next to him and held his hands, speaking nice words to him and telling him over and over that he was her only love. 

 

All was well for a week, though not once did Bea see Lee. Her days felt as though there was a large hole throughout them, but she was too scared to knock on his door and confront him about it. Not until her and Harold were walking out of their building, to head for his parents home to celebrate one of his nieces birthdays, did she spot him again. Lee was in his hat, wearing a t-shirt and suspenders, talking to a man with slicked brown hair, sharing a cigarette. Bea met his eyes for a second before he glanced away. His right eye sported a real big shiner that made Bea cringe on sight before turning her gaze back to her front. Harold’s shoulders were tight and tense. 

 

Loud music could be heard from behind the door, so loud that Bea was unsure if her knock would even be heard over the music. She wiped her hands on her skirt, frowning at the door, contemplating if she should knock again or simply leave when the door opened a crack, revealing Lee, his hair free from his usual cap, brown curls falling over his forehead. 

“Mrs. Riley.” Lee widened the door. No smile graced his lips, his eyes shifted down. “I don’t think you should be here.”

“Did- did Harold hurt you?” Her hand drifted up towards his black eye before stopping mid air. She lowered her hand, instead bringing it to her own face, wiping at her teared filled eyes. 

Lee wouldn’t look at her directly. A sharp pain flowed through her chest. “It doesn’t matter Mrs. Riley. Just… did he?” 

Bea remembered when he threw that fork at her, the time he hurt her wrist, the time he forced her down on him, times in between, practically insignificant, when he made her jump in sudden fear and called her names that made her eyes water and whole being feel as worthless as she must be. He has hurt her, but it wasn’t something really bad, nothing like how he obviously hurt Lee. “He did nothing to me this week.” 

He hadn’t liked that answer, but Lee nodded anyways, his eyes still not quite looking at Bea. “I will miss you, Miss Beatrice.” 

Bea let her tears fall. “I will miss you as well Mr. Greene. Um. Bye bye.” She turned away, feeling his eyes on her, finally, until she left his hall. She felt wretched, as though her whole heart had been ripped out of her chest, along with a lung, too. 

 

Harold’s eyes were dark with anger as his hands held her wrist tight, pushing into her, his mouth right by her ear. Hot breath in her ear that made her tremble. “You. Will. Not. See. That. Man. Again. You hear me girl?” Bea nodded frantically, tears running down her cheeks. 

“Harold, I will never- never see him again. He’s nothing to me, nothing like you. I promise, I promise.” She cried into his chest, feeling like a child begging their father not to hurt them. She couldn’t remember if her own father ever hit her, but she always feared he would. He had hurt Bucky so much, Bea can still remember seeing the blank expression on Bucky’s face as he came to bed after their father had hit him. She remembered times she stayed wide awake, waiting for her brother to come back into the room and crawl into bed so she could hug him and make him feel better. It was as though his soul had left him for that while, whenever he came back in. Would Bea’s soul leave her? “I never done- I never did a thing with him. He’s noth- he’s nothing!” Words tumbled out of her mouth, saliva dripping down her chin as she desperately spoke.

“He better not. If I even so much as see that fucking man glance at you, I will know, got it? You are mine. Only mine.” Harold’s warm breath moved to her mouth, locking her into a deep kiss. Bea groaned into his mouth. She could feel Harold’s grin against her mouth, one of his hands moving to her breasts. 

 

“You never, ever let a man touch you in a way you don’t want.” Bucky explained as he braided her hair, brushing out a tangle with his fingers. It hurt, but Bea didn’t wince. If she winced than Becca would know and then she would know that even Bucky’s braids weren’t perfect, like Bea insisted they were, and Becca would do her hair more. So Bea sat through the slight pain. “He does something that makes you uncomfortable, ya knee him straight in the balls, or scream, or tear out that assholes eyes with those sharp little nails of yours.” He tapped at her hands. Her nails were long, with dirt underneath the white from when she played earlier in the day. 

Bea laughed, looking up at her brothers face. “So I can never cut my nails?” 

“Well it’s either that or carry a knife with you everywhere.” Bucky shrugged, moving her head back to face front. “Just never let a man do anything you don’t want done to you.” 

“No one will! Cause I have my big brother Bucky to save me!” Bea grinned back at her brother. 

He rolled his eyes, but said, “I will always be here to protect you Bea.”

 

Then he left.

And he died.

And he’s gone, forever, his corpse likely nothing but eroded bones, his flesh eaten by bears or whatever the hell animal lived in the middle of Europe. He was gone and he would never return. Bucky was dead.

Bea thought of sunday mass, of how the Father spoke of how no one was truly dead, yes their soul may have departed from this world, but their memory lives on inside their loved ones- it was a whole load of bull. Bucky was dead, even if Bea reached into her mind, he was still dead. Bucky couldn’t protect her. He couldn’t do shit for her.

 

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the world around her. She couldn’t fight or scream or call for her brother. She wasn’t allowed to. This was her husband, this was what she should want. She really, really did not want any of this. God, Becca was right. She didn’t think out a damn thing. She only wanted to act as though her brother never existed, act as though she was fine and that she could move right on with her life. She couldn’t, she couldn’t, and she screwed herself over. Bea was a stupid little girl, just like Harold told her, just how Becca had to think of her. 

Why hadn’t she met Lee Greene sooner? Why hadn’t she gone slow with Harold? Why was her life this way? Was this God’s way of punishing her for letting Bucky shield her from nearly everything when she was younger? Or was this simply life? Brothers die, sisters judge, husbands hurt, true love slips right through your grasp. This had to be the life Bucky had wanted her to never know. 

Bea wished that her soul would leave her body, if only for an hour, a minute, a second, so she could be away from this, so she could see Bucky and know that life would be alright because he made it alright. When George hit Bucky, did his soul find someone when it left him for that brief time? Would Bea find several, shattered, broken memories of her brothers soul- from all the times he had been chipped away from his own body? She wanted to see her brother so bad, it didn’t matter if she would see nothing but hurt. 

It’d only be another thing about them that matched. 

 

“Wait, your middle name is Beatrice? Why, Miss Beatrice, are you a woman shrouded in mystery!” Lee Greene’s long fingers placed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I must guess what name you have. Goodness, it must be one helluva name if you refuse to be known by it!”

 

“Mmm… Ruth…” Harold moaned into her ear as his semen spilled on to her, dripping down her folds and over her vagina. Bea gripped hard against his shoulders. She did not like that name. She asked him to never call her by that name, yet he had told her family to call her by it, and would slip and call her it once in a while. Her name was Beatrice, Ruth was only a placeholder, a fancy string of letters that Bucky believed complimented her true name.

She wondered if he once knew a Ruth. 

 

Bea was the perfect housewife. Food was ready and on the table when her husband came home. The home was clean and in place. She smiled for his family and let Lorena gossip her ear off about her life, as though she genuinely cared about her life. Lorena’s life seemed so simple- she had a daddy who gave her shiny things and sex and she never had to worry about a damn thing. She was very obviously happy. Bea enjoyed spending time wondering how her life would crumble around her feet- how her daddy would leave her, how she would find herself with nothing but all the fancy shit he bought her, her greed keeping her from selling it all. It was horrible, but, well, Bea didn’t quite care. It wasn’t as though she snapped at Lorena. 

 

As Bea stepped down the stairs, she caught a snippet of Lee’s voice. Her fingers twitched. Her heart skipped a beat. She walked forward, she had errands to run. 

 

A film was being made. Becca had spoke to Bea and the Howling Commandos, and each and every one of them had finally caved. It was bound to happen sooner or later, what with comics already being out and sold every month. The film would be out in theaters, hopefully the man who spoke to Becca had said, by nineteen fifty. They still needed to have sets made and props and the such, and, well, find the perfect man to play the great, wonderful legend that was Captain America. 

In Bea’s opinion no one could ever portray Steve Rogers correctly. Especially if they all believed the crap put into those comics. The mere sight of them whenever she passed a newsstand made an anger she couldn’t quite understand, an anger she had been feeling for a while, hidden beneath the hurt and fear, bubbled in her stomach. God, how could she have ever complained about Becca complaining about those damned comics? How had she been so selfish towards her sister and her brothers? 

 

The night Becca had told Bea the news of the film, she told Harold, who tried to pry out details about Steve from her. It made her irritated, though sort of detached, in an odd way, sort of like the anger that she felt about the comics, something there that she felt, but couldn’t reach all the way. She only shrugged in response to his questioning, “He was just a man, Harold. A good man.” 

 

“What name do you like?” She asked, barely glancing up from the book in her lap. 

From the corner of her eye she saw her husband shrug at her. “Damn, I don’t know Beatrice, you choose.” 

Bea smiled a little. “How about Bilbo? It’s gonna be a little hobbit of a baby!” She glanced up at him, her smile widening at his own small smile. He looked handsome when he smiled. Like the man she fell for. Happiness washed over her as his smile widened slightly. 

Harold snorted, sticking out her tongue. “Nevermind, don’t name the baby. It’ll be called Little Baby Riley and that’s that.” He plopped down next to her on the bed, lying on his side to look at her. “Let’s see… Barbara?” 

“Oh God no.” Bea scrunched her nose. “Barb. Barbie. I don’t like that.” 

“Don’t you know a Barbara?” Harold asked, taking her hand between his. 

“Yes, and I hate her name to no end. Her parents had to have hated her.” Bea and Harold laughed together. “Oh, how about Opal? Opal is cute.” 

“Opal is adorable. Just like our daughter will be.” He kissed her hand. His lips didn’t linger.

“What if we have a son?” Bea raised her eyebrows at him. “Wait, I have an idea. Opal for a baby girl, Leonard for a baby boy?” 

Harold tilted his head to the side in thought before nodding. “Opal or Leonard. I love them. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

 

Leonard Riley was born on August twenty-third, nineteen forty-seven, at just past midnight. He was an absolutely ugly little wrinkled thing, but still the cutest creature Bea had ever laid eyes on. He had dark little hairs on his head, and cried his lungs out when he escaped her body. The afterbirth had made her shake, especially since she had not expected it. Nobody ever told her about such things. 

Harold had insisted on paying for a private room, though the price made Bea cry inside, even if they were able to afford it. 

Little Leonard lay by her in their room, swaddled up in his little blue blanket. Bea touched his soft, wrinkly cheek. She made him, she carried him, here he was. Her baby. Her beautiful baby boy. Boy. A tear escaped her eye. 

 

“Wow, it’s so ugly. Just like his mama, huh?” Betty grinned at Bea, leaning her head towards her and Leonard. Stray hairs tickled at her cheeks as Betty pulled away, anticipating Bea to smack at her for her words. Which, honestly, if her son wasn’t in her arms she would have made to hit at her. 

Bea scowled at her instead. “Oh shush you asshole! My little Leonard is so cute, your dumb monkey brain cannot comprehend it!” Her older sister only laughed loudly, holding her arms out to carry Leonard. Bea gently set him in her arms, showing her how to place her hands. 

“I can’t believe you’re a mother.” Betty cooed out despite how fearful she looked to be holding Leonard in her arms. She had never been fond of holding children, always whispering to Becca that she was sure she would drop one someday. Leonard’s little hands reached for the hair that fell over her shoulders, fingers tangling, accidently pulling out her curls. She smiled up at Bea, whose hands were up in case Betty accidentally lost her grip. “Can I say something? Promise not to get upset?”

Was she really going to bring up her and Becca’s misgivings on Harold right now? It was too late, she had come this far, she was going through with the whole of it. Betty was holding Bea’s child in her arms for goodness sake!

“That question has me upset already, but, okay.” Bea smiled tightly, her eyes staying on Leonard’s tiny fingers. 

“I haven’t seen you this happy in years. You’re happy with little Leonard. I thought you’d look this happy with Harold, but you don’t.” Betty breathed through her nose. “I’m happy that you’re happy now. That’s fucking great Bea. I hope you stay happy.” 

She hoped so too. Bea’s eyes trailed to her sons face. While she was so glad to have him, it made her fearful. Bucky had been hurt so many times, she could remember his broken sobs, can remember the pure anger, nearly painful, on their fathers face. It scared her that, at times, the same look passed over her husband's eyes. 

“How’s mama?” Bea asked after a few minutes, taking Leonard back in her arms as he began to fuss. She could feel Betty’s eye roll from behind her, obviously wanting to continue talking about what she brought up, but for once she was backing down. Thank the Lord. 

 

Harold was practically giggling as Leonard wiggled on his bare chest. “Hey, hey, babe look, he’s so cute! Such a cute little thing!” He glanced up at her, the clunky little camera he had lying around in their closet in her hands, grinning even more when he realized she taking a photo. She set the camera down on their bed stand, grinning back at him. “C’mere, come on Beatrice! Lie down with us.” 

The cool sheets felt nice against her knees and arms as she crawled next to Harold, lying on her side next to him. She reached a hand out to play with the long pale hairs on his chest. They stayed this way, both giggling over their son. 

“Oh my God, I think he’s trying to suck at my nipple.” Harold laughed, pressing his hand softly on Leonard’s back. “I ain’t gotta teet boy! No man's got any!” 

Bea rolled her eyes, but didn’t say a thing as she wriggled out of her dress, in nothing but her panties and socks. She poked at Harold’s side, who grinned at her, blushing a little. “Hand me him before he grips onto that little useless nipple of yours.” 

Harold shivered. “Do not need to know that feeling. Here ya go baby girl.” He gently lay Leonard onto her chest. Her husband lied on his side, watching them with a smile. 

 

“Can’t we at least try? I mean the baby is asleep and it ain’t like he gonna wake up and remember or understand what his parents are getting up to.” Harold raised his pale eyebrows up, his hand moving up and down her arm, a pout on his lips. 

Bea sighed, not quite feeling awake enough for this, but tired of his asking. “Okay. But ya better not get another baby in me Harold Riley!” 

He grinned. “Oh, no thanks. One rugrat is enough.” 

“For now?” Bea raised an eyebrow at him as she took off her panties for him, since she hated when he pulled them down and left them hanging around her ankles. 

Harold shrugged, laughing. “Yeah, for now. Leonard might’ve grown on me, just a smidge.” His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing slightly. “Oh shit! Oops, shit, ew.” Bea glanced down at where a small amount of her milk had squeezed out, rolling her eyes as she brought her thumb to her nipple, clearing up the liquid. He scowled when she stuck her thumb in her mouth. “Ew. Okay, so, no touching your breasts. Uh, okay, ha.” 

 

Bea walked up and down the building stairs, Leonard cooing in her arms. He loved the stairs. The moment she moved up or down, Leonard would stop any of his fussing that wasn’t because he had wet himself or hungry. She would bounce him up in her arms, talk in a soothing low voice, or let him listen to the noises from others moving and talking in their homes or in the hallways. The first few times she took Leonard she was terrified of dropping him or that some rude person would complain or knock her down. Her expectations were, luckily, not met. Everyone was kind and considerate, mothers understanding and sharing what they had done to keep their babies calm. 

It was quite refreshing and wonderful. 

Plus, Bea loved hearing others compliment her child or tentatively ask if they could hold him. 

Bea heard voices of people moving up the stairs, automatically she moved closer to the wall to give her neighbors room. The footsteps and voices moved closer and she stiffened a bit as she realized who one was. 

Lee Greene stopped in front of her, nearly tripping over his own two feet. His friend, standing a little behind him, snickered, earning himself an elbow to the chest. Lee cleared his throat. “Fancy running into you here Mrs. Riley.” His smile wavered. Lee had gotten a haircut, not a curl of hair could peek out from out of his hat.

“Well, Mr. Greene, I have to frequent these stairs or else little Leonard will have my head.” Bea gave a small laugh, though it fell a bit short. It had been months since they properly seen one another or talked. Her heart just about broke when he addressed her by her married name. 

“Leonard?” Lee’s friend cooed, placing his hands on Lee’s shoulders and standing on the tip of his toes before falling back to the flats of his feet. “Ya calling him Lenny or Leo?”

Bea had been trying out nicknames, but none of them had felt right so far. “I’m not sure yet, if I’m honest. Been trying to see what will stick. I’ve mostly been calling him Bean and Leopard! Harold thinks its a bit dumb, but, well, I like it, so we’ll see what sticks.” 

“Leonard Leopard?” Lee laughed, mouth wide, eyes wrinkled. “That is adorable.” 

“Sounds like a guy Betty Boop’ll will love. C’mon, don’t tell me I’m wrong, I ain’t wrong am I?” Lee’s friend grinned as Bea make a contemplative face in thought. “Can I hold little Leonard Leopard, Mrs. Riley?” 

Bea bounced a little in place as she thought. “I’m not sure. Leonard was behaving a little fussy, hence the stair walk. Perhaps another time, Mr- um. Sorry I don’t believe I caught your name?” 

“Sammy Evans. And, sure, I’ll remember cause I sure do wanna hold that little cutie.” Sammy grinned at her. “Well, we better be getting along, huh Lee? Gotta get our shit then head back to the bar before Tiana decides to chop off something other than our heads.” Sammy smacked at Lee’s back, causing the man to stumble forward a bit.

There had been a few mentions of Evans when they had spent time together- he played with Lee’s band and was the one who lived in the building. Lee had known Sammy since they were young children, he very obviously cared for his friend, it was apparent the few times he had brought up his friends name to Bea, a smile on his face that reminded her of the friendship between Steve and Bucky, something that only death could break. 

As Bea moved past the two, she smiled at Lee. “Have a good time at your show, Mr. Greene.” As an afterthought she added over her shoulder, “Evans.” She could hear Sammy’s laughing as she moved down, bouncing little Leonard in her arms. 

 

The delicious scent of apples wafted through the apartment. Bea grinned down at Leonard, tickling at his little tummy, as she heard Harold move around, mumbling about how he couldn’t wait to get his hands on that pie they were making. Leonard kicked out, hitting right at her breast, causing Bea to wince and move back. One of her hands clutched at herself, pouting. 

“Hey, Hal, are you almost ready to leave?” Bea called out to him as she straightened out her dress once again, pouting a bit down at her breast, which still stung. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m almost done. Want me to carry the pies?” Harold asked, poking his head into their bedroom. He winced at her blank look. “What’s that? Did Leonard shit or something?” 

Bea shook her head and scratched at her temple. “Nothing, just. Uh, grab the pies please? Thank you. We leaving right now then?” 

“Yup, yup.” Harold mumbled as he exited the room. “Got the pies! Grab that kid and let’s get outta here! Go give thanks for food and family!” As they walked, Harold was humming under his breath. He didn’t have a nice singing voice, but his croon always made Bea giggle when it hit a wrong note, which seemed to egg him on.

 

“Bea, I really love you, so, so much.” Harold whispered as he kissed at her bare arms. “I’m sorry I get so fucking angry. Sometimes I can’t help myself. I’ll try, I promise, I’ll try.” Bea raised her hands to his face as his eyes closed, moving his cheek closer to her hand. A small tear fell from his eye. Bea kissed where it fell. 

 

A loud, unexpected knock from the door made Bea jump up from her seat on the sofa, where she was absently listening to the radio as Leonard slept in his cradle. She made her way to the door, slowing opening the door just a crack. She peeked out to see a sliver of Sammy Evans, the mans blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, his hands inside his jeans pockets.  

“Hey there Mrs. Riley!” Evans took his hand out of his pocket, giving Bea a small wave. “Mind if I come in?” 

“Oh!” Bea opened the door wider, letting him in. She tried to hide the disappointment that welled in her chest as she realized that Lee wasn’t with him. Evans moved past her, automatically moving to where Leonard was sleeping, cooing softly. As she closed the door, she asked, “What brings you Evans?”

“Baby.” Evans answered, his voice still in a coo. “I wanted to carry him, but, well, I don’t want to wake him.” The man stood back for a minute, glancing around, his eyes landing on her framed photos. He moved closer, humming under her breath, “You looked very beautiful on your wedding day. Too bad for that solemn face, it’d’ve been perfect, huh?” 

Bea’s left eye twitched. “I don’t see an issue.” 

Evans glanced over at her, a tight smile on his lips. “No issue, just an observation. Uh, you know what? I should get going. Sorry for interrupting your quiet time, Mrs. Riley.” He paused at the door, throwing her a large grin. “You know, Lee has been terribly upset since… everything. I hope you two can be friends again.” 

Of course Bea still wanted to be Lee’s friend, but that couldn’t happen. Bea gave Evans a shrug. “Friendships fall apart and drift away. It’s for the best.” She heard Evans hum again before he muttered his farewell and shut the door behind him. 

It really was for the best. 

 

Large purple marks were littered down Harold’s neck to his chest. Bea only caught a glimpse as her husband changed after returning home from work. That small glimpse made her body cool and her movements stutter for a second before she turned away, singing softly to Leonard. 

Maybe she should have felt betrayed, felt sad, felt angry, for more than that mere second, that small glimpse, but all that she could think was- 

What a fucking hypocrite.

He could get cozy with whoever the fuck he wanted- she had to be called Ruth, Bea knew she had to be called Ruth, but who the hell was Ruth?- and she couldn’t have one friend. Nevermind whatever she felt for Lee, because she knew, knew for quite a while longer than she had admitted to herself, she wasn’t stupid, but it wasn’t as though she would act on those feelings. She vowed herself to Harold forever, and no matter how she felt for another man, no matter how unhappy she was in certain moments when Harold grabbed onto her and breathed hot air in her ear, Bea was loyal to him. 

And that fucking hypocrite was getting himself involved with another woman. Of course.

 

Christmas came and went. Harold had bought her nice earrings that she automatically wore, her fingers constantly shifting to her ears to feel them, and he had even accompanied Bea with her sisters and her mother as they went to lay flowers and spoke to Bucky and Steve, early in the morning. He stood a little way apart from them, curiously examining the headstone.

“Hal, honey, do you mind if I spend the day with my family?” Bea asked quietly as they walked out of the cemetery, her eyes leaping from the frosted ground to the headstones varying in sizes. Other families were visiting lost loved ones, far away and dressed in dark clothes, stark against the dreary white. “I know your mother wants to see Leonard, though, but I’m sure you won’t mind spending the day with him?” 

Harold licked his lips. “Well, uh, sure. I don’t mind one bit, Beatrice.” 

A small part of Bea wanted to taunt him, look up at him through her lashes and ask, ‘Oh, do you have business with someone else today? Will having your son ruin anything Harold?’ But she held her tongue, smiling widely at him as she handed her son over to him. 

“Thanks so much Harold.” Bea smiled at him as she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Harold grinned at her, holding Leonard close to his chest. God, did he look handsome, just like he had when they first met. He was all charming grin, his blonde hair styled in perfected, his dimples showing when he smiled. Bea knew why she fell in love with him, or close enough to falling. It was entirely superficial- his looks, how he never pushed too hard about her. Maybe if she waited, like Becca insisted she did. her life could have been perfect. 

And here he stood, smiling carelessly at her, holding their son, marks from another woman littering his body.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well that's part 1! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be finished, but I hope ya'll will stick around for when it's done :) please tell me what you think, leave a kudos, subscribe, all that nice stuff


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